


The Colour Green

by KrolenaT



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe, DCU, Justice League (2017), Man of Steel (2013)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrolenaT/pseuds/KrolenaT
Summary: Bruce Wayne found a way to turn Kryptonite into clean energy. Needless to say, that single solution to the planet's environmental crisis brings along a ton of other problems with it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**TWO YEARS AGO**

"First, promise me you will hear me out…" Bruce had both hands raised in front him, "Before blowing up and screaming at me."

Clark raised an eyebrow in suspicion as he sat down in front of the table.

The gigantic mahogany table which served as Bruce's workspace stood between them. Despite having spent a substantial amount of time in Bruce Wayne's office and residence, Clark could never get used to the opulent lifestyle of his…colleague? Fellow upholder of Justice? Clark settled on his 'Friend'.

He supposed they were friends now. After getting over wanting to kill each other, and then Clark dying, and Bruce bringing Clark back to life, then them working together to save the world multiple times over.

Yeah, Bruce was a friend to Clark.

But even so, why would anyone need such a huge table? All everyone needed to work nowadays was a single computer, the entirety of which could fit on Clark's lap.

"I don't scream," Clark grumbled.

He was beginning to regret answering Bruce's call and coming to meet him at Wayne Enterprises. There was a good chance his measly forty minute lunch break was about to be ruined by some unpleasant news, judging from Bruce's defensiveness.

Bruce clasped his hands together, "So, fossil fuels. Bad for the environment. Huge contributor to global warming, one of the primary causes of climate change, yada yada."

Clark sighed and stole a glance at his watch. Twenty minutes left of his lunch break, and Bruce wanted to chat about the environment?

"Did you just call me up here to talk about coal?" Clark huffed, thinking fondly about his sandwich stowed away in his bag. He should have grabbed that with him, but he had left in such a hurry since Bruce said it was urgent.

"Well, not just coal, but all non-renewable energy sources in general," Bruce clarified, using a finger to stop Clark from interrupting, "And how this is non-sustainable in the long run. But what if, I told you I have a solution for an infinitely renewable source of energy."

"I would say that I am not the science correspondent of The Daily Planet. That would be Angela, I'll ask her to give you a call if you'd like. Bruce, if I can't finish all my articles for today, Perry is going to have my neck," Clark stood up.

"Clark, you have super speed," Bruce narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

"No," Clark objected, "That'd be…cheating."

Bruce waved in dismissal, "Whatever. Anyway, this is about Superman as much as it is about fossil fuels," he took a deep breath, "Kryptonite."

A chill washed over Clark at the mention of Kryptonite. He would never forget how the green meteor rock made him feel, both physically and emotionally. It was one of the few things which truly scared him, and he hated being afraid of some stupid rock.

As a show of good faith to Clark, Bruce had promised to scrounge up any and all the kryptonite he could find in the world, and destroy them. Clark knew that Bruce was still having trouble with the destroying them part, so they temporarily settled for having all the rock stored securely in a vault hidden somewhere in the Batcave.

Clark connected the dots at once and saw where Bruce was heading with this.

"I swear to God, Bruce," Clark gritted his teeth, his hands clenched into fists.

Bruce was by his side in an instant, "Clark, this can save the world. This can be the only thing to save us, and every other life form on this planet from extinction," he closed a hand around Clark's wrist, "That being said, I will let this go if you want me to. Just say the word, and I will drop everything."

Clark sighed in defeat. What was Clark gonna do, let the environment die just because he didn't like to be confronted with his own mortality?

Well, it was not like he hasn't died before. Right?

Clark sank back down into the chair, an invitation for Bruce to start talking.

Bruce grinned wryly, "As you know, I was figuring out a way to decompose Kryptonite. All I could achieve with my laser was just to break it down into infinitely smaller pieces of Kryptonite. But only physically, and not chemically. It still retained all of its properties. Until last month!" Bruce was clearly very excited about his findings, "When I heat Kryptonite to exactly nine hundred and fifty degrees centigrade, the rock releases tremendous amounts of energy. Much more than the amount of energy released from an equivalent mass of Uranium-235 in nuclear fission."

Bruce decanted more whiskey into his empty tumbler, "Unlike Uranium, the radiation from Kryptonite is totally safe for uh…everyone except you. And I cannot detect any trace of by-products from this reaction. That could be because the alien elements are not recognised by my machines, I would need to run further tests to be sure. But, Clark? I think this is it. I really think Kryptonite is the solution to all of our energy problems."

Clark hummed, "Not to mention the billions it will make you, huh?"

"Billions?" Bruce chuckled, "Try Trillions. But this isn't about the money. This is about the future of our planet, our children, our children's children."

"I get it," Clark removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, "I really do," He could already see that future him was going to regret agreeing to the plan, "Alright, if we are really going to do this, there has to be some contingencies."

Bruce nodded sternly, "Of course. The planet needs clean fuel as much as it needs Superman. Don't worry, I already have a plan. For one, there is no need for anyone to know that we are using Kryptonite, or that it is the one thing which could bring Superman down. And containment wise, the Kryptonite will be enclosed in lead and steel-reinforced concrete, like in a nuclear reactor plant."

"People are going to be curious, Bruce," Clark tried, "And they are going to ask why Superman can't help put out the fire at the Kryptonite power plant."

"I already told you, it's going to be contained in lead and concrete. You can definitely still help to put out a fire at a Kryptonite power plant," Bruce frowned in deep thought, "Unless some monster smashes you into the reactor and critically damages the vessel liner? I would advise you to stay away from the plants, if you were to engage in a fight."

Clark wasn't going to lie. It was a relief to know that something good could come out of Kryptonite, and that Krypton could be a key to saving Earth. All he had seen and experienced of his planet of origin up till this moment, has been nothing but violence and destruction.

"Okay, fine. We'll hammer out the finer details another time. I really have to get back to my day job."

* * *

**NOW**

"See anything?" Bruce demanded.

The billionaire was currently attending a conference on the other side of the world, and Clark was in the outskirts of Metropolis, in one of Wayne Industries' power plants which was in the process of being ravaged by a fire. That was until Clark blew it out.

The lingering black smoke was no hindrance to his x-ray vision, but it made him feel unsettled, made the back of his neck prickle. Maybe because he was standing in the building full of what was probably five hundred metric tonnes of Kryptonite. The only thing separating him from the green rocks were a layer of lead and concrete.

Clark looked around the ruined space. There was not much left to see.

"I don't think there's any damage to the structure of the plant. Well, not that I can see much anyway, there's lead everywhere. You'll have to get your engineers to take a closer look. Good news is, the fire hasn't spread beyond the control tower," Clark brushed the soot off his boots, "I'm going down to check on the reactor, make sure that the wall of the vessel hasn't been damaged."

"Are you sure?" Bruce checked, "It's no hurry now that the fire has been put out. I can get one of my guys to do it."

Clark hovered and glided silently along the pitch-black hallway. Everyone has already been evacuated, and Clark mentally noted the sounds of the fire trucks just arriving at the premises.

"I mean, I am like a living and breathing dosimeter for Kryptonite," Clark joked.

Bruce scoffed, "You're not a meter, you're a photographic plate at best."

"Okay, I don't exactly get what you just said, but it kinda sounds like an insult," Clark stopped before the big lead door guarding the reactor room, his hand on the handle, "I save your power plant from becoming ash, and this is the thanks I get? I told you it would be on fire."

"And I told you, that you'll be there to put it out," Bruce retorted, "Well? Any damage? Hello? Superman?"

Clark bristled at Bruce's impatience. Just because Clark has super speed, that didn't mean that he has to do everything at light speed.

His ears perked at a single, tiny beep coming from within the room when he rolled the sliding door open and stepped into the big round chamber containing the towering reactor vessel. The darkness and stillness of the echoing space was immediately disrupted by multiple rapidly expanding balls of of white light and heat.

Explosives going off, Clark's brain supplied helpfully, as the light and heat engulfed his surroundings, igniting all the flammable materials in the room within milliseconds. He saw the blast waves of the explosion rippling through the air and instinctively brought his hands up to shield his face from the fragmented pieces of concrete and metal.

He had to move, before-

The menacing green glow followed immediately after, before the sound of the devastation even reached his ears. Clark pivoted on his heel, ready to propel out of the room and slam the lead door shut.

The next step he took brought him to his hands and knees, as all his strength was sapped out of him instantly by the exposure to Kryptonite's radiation.

He couldn't hear Bruce anymore, his senses consumed by the roaring of the still ongoing explosion, orange and green swirling nauseatingly all around him.

The all encompassing pain which followed drowned everything else out, constricting his airways, making breathing impossible. Clark was left gasping on the floor, wondering if he really did come back to life at all or if this was all his imagination.

The last thing he felt was the coppery tang of blood flooding his mouth, and then darkness.

* * *

"Wh-," Clark was lying on a soft and warm surface.

Where was he? What the heck happened? His limbs were weighted down by weakness, and his brain sluggish.

It took every ounce of energy he had left to pry open his heavy eyelids. He only managed one, his left eye, but it refused tofocus. A red blob was moving about above his face, and there was a bright circle of yellow light behind the red blob.

Flash.

"Barruh."

"Whoa, just relax. You're safe. Bruce will be here soon," Barry's voice was sending Clark back to the darkness he just emerged from, "Hello? Yeah, he's finally awake…but whoop, nope. I think he's going back und-"

* * *

The following awakening, Clark had more control over his own body. His arm lifted when he told it to. A good sign. He brought it up with the intention to rub at his eyes, only succeeding in dropping it on his face and punching himself in the eye. Relatively more control, but still not a hundred percent.

"Ow."

He just left his hand there, to shield his eyes from the blinding light still shining right in his face.

Clark didn't need to turn his head to know that Bruce was in the same room. He could hear his slow, steady heartbeat, his quiet breathing, and pages of a book being turned.

"Do you still need the lamp?" Bruce asked casually, like Clark hadn't nearly died, again.

"Nuh?"

What lamp? Was he talking about the annoying light?

His brain was obviously still struggling with playing catch-up.

Clark let his head roll onto the side and there Bruce was, reading a magazine in a chair with his legs up on the table.

He recognised that they were at Bruce's place, more specifically, one of the sub-basements which Bruce had converted into a medical bay.

Bruce fiddled with his phone and the bright lamp was switched off, the low hum of the electricity supplying the lamp dissolved into silence.

"Umm…" Clark reflected on the sequence of events which had led him to his current situation.

There was a fire?

And Bruce was bossing him around through the earpiece. And then…

The lack of the warmth of the lamp was making Clark's head pound. It was as if the temperature of the room had dropped several degrees suddenly. Clark reached down to pull the blankets up but…There weren't any blankets. In fact, there weren't any clothes on him either, except his- No, this definitely wasn't the same pair of briefs he had put on the last time he remembered dressing himself in his apartment.

"Where…clothes," Clark frowned at his bare body, and then swung his gaze up to Bruce's expressionless face.

"We had to take your suit off. There might have been traces of Kryptonite left by the explosion."

Clark leveraged himself up into a sitting position with his forearms with a grunt, "Who's we?"

"Barry and Alfred," Bruce passed him a set of neatly folded clothes.

They were his shirt and jeans, taken from his closet in his apartment in Metropolis, "I just got in two hours ago."

"Hours- How long was I out?" Clark put on the shirt and fumbled a little with the buttons. He shook out the lingering numbness in his fingers.

"It's ten in the morning."

What?! When Clark put out the fire at the power plant, it had been close to midnight.

He let his legs dangle off the edge of the bed for a second, before pushing himself upright to put on his jeans.

Bruce looked away while Clark dressed, "Breakfast is ready. We're going to eat, and then you are going to tell me everything."

Always with the orders and demands. Clark shook his head as he followed Bruce into the elevator.

Alfred left two sets of perfectly cooked eggs Benedict and chocolate chip waffles sitting on the dining table, in the middle of the plates sat a freshly-brewed pot of black coffee.

"Look, there's not much to tell," Clark took a seat opposite Bruce, "You were there for the whole thing, I mean, I told you everything I saw at the plant. I went down to the reactor room, and the next thing I know, it blew up. Bombs containing C4, I'd say five of them? Spread around the place. They must have been remotely triggered, I heard some sort of a signal coming from the bombs."

"The fire was just a distraction then," Bruce was deep in thought.

"How did I- You called Barry?" Clark drowned his waffles in maple syrup, paused, and then decided to shower his eggs with syrup too.

Bruce's attention returned to their conversation, and he regarded Clark's breakfast with distaste, "I did. He didn't get to you fast enough. By the time he got you out, you were bleeding out. Internally."

"So…what now?" Clark knew the next logical step to take was to find the person who planted the explosives. There were only two possible motives: A, someone wanted to sabotage the Wayne Industries; and B, someone wanted to kill Superman.

For motive B, the list of possible suspects only had one name on it. Lex Luthor was the only person who was aware of both Kryptonite's effect on him, and the alter ego of Wayne Industries' CEO.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "Just like that? What? You're not going to lay it on me?"

"I'm sorry?" Clark was confused.

Bruce did a very poor imitation of Clark's voice, "I told you so! I told you it was a bad idea!"

"I don't sound like that," Clark frowned, "And I never thought it was a bad idea. In fact, I'm pretty sure I have been nothing but fully supportive of your plans for the past two years."

"Look, I don't blame you for any of this. You only wanted to save the planet, and you've done all that you could to protect me," Clark snorted, "I was the idiot who went down to check on the reactor, even though you told me not to, considering how the whole place is just a giant blind spot for me."

"Well, you didn't know," Bruce replied diplomatically.

Clark repeated his previous question, "What now?"

"I'll handle it," Bruce gestured with a wave of his hand.

The refusal to leave the case to Bruce was on the tip of Clark's tongue. It was true that Bruce was the superior detective between the two of them, what with his million-dollar worth of technology sitting below them; But it was hard for Clark couldn't bring himself to just wash his hands off it, not when it involved Kryptonite.

"You will keep me updated, right? And let me know if you need any help?"

There was a slight moment of hesitation before Bruce answered, "Sure. Oh, and I hope you don't mind, I had Barry draw some blood from you while you were under. To study the effects of Kryptonite poisoning on your cells and how your body recovers from it."

"Uh…Okay?" It wasn't like Clark was going to miss the few ounces of blood, "Anything interesting?"

"Well, Barry started on some preliminary observations. Seems like a mere 15 minute exposure to that amount of Kryptonite in the reactor was enough to trigger the apoptosis cascade in 80% of your cells. As-"

"Trigger the what?"

"The process of the cells dying. As far as we can tell, the process is irreversible. So just, please stay away from the power plants for now, will you?" Bruce sighed in exasperation, "At least until I find out what happened."

Clark didn't get why Bruce was being frustrated with him, he had agreed to everything Bruce proposed so far, "I'll…try?"

"Don't try, do."

* * *

Clark flew to Central City later that day. He wanted to thank Barry personally for saving his life. He changed out of his suit in the alley beside the Central City Police Department and strode into the busy precinct.

His x-ray vision revealed Barry at his desk in the lab, busy typing at a screen showing weird spiky lines.

Clark knocked twice, "Hi?"

A stocky, balding man with a lab coat greeted him at the door him with an annoyed frown, "Can I help you?"

"I'm…uh…looking for-"

"Su- Clark! It's okay, Randy, he's my…cousin from out of town," Barry grinned widely.

"Take your cousin away from my lab please, the last thing thing I need is to have my evidence contaminated," Randy grouched.

"Great to see that you're alright! That was a close call, am I right? Coffee? My treat! Well, no, the coffee in the break room is free, so I guess I can't consider it a treat huh? If you want, I can treat you to paid coffee? There's a pretty good coffeeshop across the street. Although their coffee's like really overpriced, I mean what's up with-"

Clark placed a hand on Barry's shoulder to stop him, "Free coffee sounds good."

"Ah yes, yes, of course it does! Here we are!" Barry led them into a small pantry, stocked with a coffee machine and a small fridge.

There were a few other uniformed officers milling around the room.

Barry poured him a cup, "Sugar? Milk?" He lowered his voice down to a whisper, "Wait, does caffeine even affect you?"

"Black's fine. And no, it does not, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy a good cup of coffee," Clark answered amusedly.

When Bruce first introduced Clark to Bartholomew formally, after the battle with Steppenwolf, he had described the younger superhero as high-strung with a side-eye. Clark liked Barry. It was refreshing to talk to someone like Barry, even though they hadn't done that as much as he liked. Barry was an open book. He speaks his mind freely and Clark liked that about him.

Barry only stopped adding sugar in his coffee when they stopped dissolving, "So…What's up?"

"Oh nothing, I just wanted to thank you. If you hadn't come when you did…," Clark smiled, "Thank you."

"Aw, it's nothing. I mean, you're s- you, and you've done so much for us. That's the least I can do," Barry laughed, "And between you and me, I've never heard Bruce sound so flustered and worried before. It really was a very close call."

"Huh," That was definitely not the stoic and huffy Bruce Clark had woken up to.

Clark cleared his throat, "He said you were doing tests…on my blood."

"Oh yes! I was just about the analyse the kind of DNA damage induced by Kry- the uh, radiation, and why it doesn't affect humans the same way," Barry described animatedly.

"So do you think that if you find out what the differences are, you could devise some sort of a vaccine or a treatment for my problem?"

"I mean, it wouldn't be a vaccine, since this is not an infection we're dealing with," Barry pursed his lips in concentration, "The most obvious way would be to physically block the radiation, as we've done with lead. But maybe if there is a way to prevent the apoptosis cascade…"

"Okay?" Clark remarked. They could try that.

Barry frowned, "Not so okay, since apoptosis is part of the body's defence mechanism against diseases like cancer, where you have uncontrolled cell division."

"Oh."

"Wait, can you even get cancer? Aren't Kryptonians like immor-," Barry covered his mouth with a gasp, sneaking a look at the other people sharing the room.

"I don't…I don't know?" Clark didn't think anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation, but he steered them out the back door anyway, into the alley Clark arrived in, so they could talk more freely.

"Oh my gosh!" Barry exclaimed, "Imagine if I could generate a cell line out of your cells, and study it in culture! What a breakthrough that would be! But I would need a healthy enough sample to start that off…"

"If it helps, you can have more of my blood?" Clark shrugged, leaning against the brick wall.

"Wait, really? Really, really?! You're letting me study you?!"

Clark flinched at the word choice, his mind flashing back to the nightmares he had as a child. Night terrors of him being cut open and experimented on by a flock of curious scientists.

Barry didn't seem to notice his apprehension, those gears in his brain still whirring away, "Wow. That's…I've never experimented on alien species before. Where would I even publish my findings? An Astronomy Journal?" He laughed to himself, before he finally caught the look on Clark's face, "Journal Never. I will publish my findings never. Even though it would make a really good doctorate project."

"Barry…"

Barry's brain sparked again, "Stem cells! Your stem cells would have unlimited regenerative powers, that's why you're not dead, when most of you were kinda dying. Oh my gosh, those would be very useful indeed, in finding out a solution to your Kryptonite problem! Like a treatment!"

"My bone marrow?"

Clark had visited enough hospitals to know how doctors harvested bone marrow from patients. He gulped. Maybe Clark could just take his chances with the Kryptonite.

"Yes. Yes! Bone marrow! Can I have some bone marrow too?" Barry asked nonchalantly, like he was asking for a stick of gum.

"Uh…"

"But how are we going to get the cells out?"Barry mumbled quietly under his breath while staring at Clark, scrutinising him, "Kryptonite needle? We can't, the cells would start dying when they touch that needle…"

Clark heaved a heavy sigh, "That's not a problem. Meet me at the ship. Midnight."

They had better get something useful out of this little experiment.

"The ship?"

"The Kryptonian ship in Metropolis."

Barry smacked his forehead, "Oh right. Right! The ship where we brought you back to life. Wait, but wasn't it badly damaged? And why do we have to- are there Kryptonian needles on that ship? Do they come with syringes or blood tubes? Because I'm not sure it's going to fit my- Oh! Sorry, I'm talking too much."

"No, it's uh," Clark shook his head, "I repaired the ship, not fully, but it's good enough for our use. And no, no special needle needed. We just need to fill one of the chambers with Krypton's atmosphere. My powers won't work then."

Clark recalled back to the first time he was subjected to Krypton's atmosphere, aboard Zod's ship. It was the first time in his life he had felt sick, but he would rate that experience as being slightly more bearable than that of Kryptonite exposure. Fortunately for him, Barry could work quickly. They could get everything done before he would even begin to feel the effects.

Barry's eyes widened into wide saucers, "You're telling me that, if I wanted to kill Superman…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"No, no! I'm not saying that I- Wow, it's just- You're trusting me with such a big, huge, weakness of yours. Now I feel like I should share one of my greatest weaknesses. I'm deathly afraid of alligators."

Clark threw his head back and guffawed at the unexpected answer.

"I do trust you," Clark said honestly, and was returned with an ear-splitting grin from Barry.

As Clark flew away from the alley, he heard Barry yell after him, "I won't be late, I promise!"


	2. Chapter 2

The nightmares started back up again, the night following the fire. There was an explosion, fire, meteor rocks, and a dead Superman.

Bruce climbed out of bed, knowing that there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Ever since Doomsday, the nightmares which plagued him were less about the horrors of darkness, and more about the light. About the beacon of light which Bruce had snuffed out, because he was afraid of what he didn't understand.

Nobody could hold that much power and not be corrupted by it. Bruce fiercely stood by the statement, but he knew better now. Clark was different. He was the symbol of Hope which the world desperately needed, and Bruce had murdered him. Even though Clark has clearly forgiven him for that, not that Bruce thinks he should, why was that guy so damn magnanimous?; Bruce would never forgive himself.

And then, he had gone and almost killed him again last night.

Just like before, Clark claimed that he wasn't blaming Bruce for all the hurt and pain Bruce had put him through. That actually made Bruce feel worse instead of better. Why couldn't Clark be like a normal person and yell at Bruce for his incompetence instead?

He padded over to the glass wall overlooking the lake.

What was he going to do with Clark?

* * *

Bruce spent the whole morning watching the surveillance footage from his power plant for the past one week. It didn't yield any useful information to identify the perpetrator. The footage of the day of the fire has been hacked. Either remotely, or on site. He would have to dig further, after breakfast, his empty stomach reminded him with a rumble.

"Alfred," he called out while rounding the corner into the dining room, and was greeted with the sight of Clark sitting at the table instead, opposite Bruce's chair.

"When did you come in," Bruce must have been so engrossed in his room that he hadn't heard Clark's arrival.

"Fourteen minutes ago?"

Bruce had meant that as a rhetorical.

"Where's Alfred?" He noted his plate of breakfast on the table, and Clark was in the process of devouring it.

Clark looked sheepish, "Making you breakfast? Sorry. He said I could have yours. He insisted."

Bruce sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee without a word. He didn't expect the surge of irritation rising within him at the unexpected sight of Clark at breakfast. Why was that?

Was it because Bruce wanted Clark to hate him instead? Because Bruce wanted to push Clark away, since he seems to be a detriment to Clark's health?

"What do you want?" Bruce's tone was gruffer than usual.

He winced internally when Clark's face fell. Now, the anger inside him was warring with a rush of guilt.

"I- Why are you-," Clark broke off and scowled at Bruce, "Did you wake up on the wrong side of bed this morning?"

"Actually I didn't get much sleep at all, to be frank," Bruce took a healthy gulp of the bitter liquid.

Clark's eyes softened at his admission, "Any leads on the fire? Need any help?"

Bruce shook his head, "Nothing concrete yet. I told you I will handle it."

"Yes. I know, you've repeated yourself multiple times," Clark sighed, "Right, I better get going."

"You came all this way just for Alfred's breakfast?" Bruce asked.

"I was- Look, you're clearly in a bad mood, and you're just going to snap at me again, and I rather not have to deal with it this early in the day."

"Sorry," Bruce inhaled deeply and slowly for Clark to see, "I apologise for my brusqueness. There. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Clark hesitated for a moment, "I realised I haven't said 'Thank you'. For yesterday. You called Barry, and saved my life."

"Jesus Fucking Christ!" Bruce clenched his jaw, his anger finally boiling over. Was Clark for real? How was Clark even real?!

"You're impossible!" Bruce exploded.

"Me? Impossible?" Clark sprung up, his chair toppling backwards and landing with a loud thud.

Bruce rose to meet him eye-to-eye, "Yes! You want to thank the person who almost got you killed? Fine, go ahead. You're welcome," Bruce did a dramatic bow.

Clark's face twisted in confusion.

Bruce looked away, unable to face Clark a second longer.

Clark relaxed, "Bruce, you didn't do anything wrong. Look at me," Clark sighed, "I need you to know that. You did the right thing, you're saving the world."

No matter what good he tried to do, someone will always try to tear him back down. Maybe the world doesn't want to be saved by Bruce Wayne.

"It's my plant, my responsibility."

"And Krypton was mine."

Bruce wasn't sure if Clark was referring to the Kryptonite, or Black Zero, or both. And Bruce was guilty of pining the blame on Clark for the Black Zero initially, but not anymore. Was that what Clark was trying to say? That Clark was the one who brought Krypton upon Earth, and he should be the one to shoulder the responsibility?

Bruce's first instinct was just to ignore Clark, and go back to wallowing in his own guilt. But that would be unfair, he deserved better than Bruce's pissy attitude. Not to mention how Clark wasn't going to leave him alone until Bruce relented.

He couldn't bring himself to speak, so he simply nodded curtly.

"Thank you, Bruce."

There was this thing about Clark's smile, that it could light up an entire room. Bruce found his own lips quirking upwards in response.

Bruce continued staring, as Clark bent down to pick up the chair he had overturned.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Clark was too good, for Bruce, for the world. There was no doubt in his mind that he would do anything for Clark. Even though he would continue pretending otherwise.

Bruce was rudely brought out of his thoughts by the phone in his pocket, "Wayne."

"Mr Wayne. We've taken stock of all the fuel material left like you wanted. There's uh- We have 200 pounds of fuel material unaccounted for."

That was not a significant amount, considering the damage resulted from the explosion and subsequent fire.

"Thank you, Hank. I will be down at the plant this evening."

"Sure thing, Mr Wayne. We'll make preparations."

Bruce hung up and raised an eyebrow at Clark, "I assume you heard that."

Clark nodded, "They could have been buried in the rubble, or thrown clear by the blast."

It was a valid assumption.

"Master Wayne," Alfred appeared with the breakfast tray, "I hope you don't mind, me letting Master Kent have your breakfast. I didn't see the need for the food to get cold."

This was usually what Alfred's version of a telling-off sounds like.

"Sorry Alfred, lost track of time," Bruce apologised.

* * *

Bruce spent the remainder of his morning down at the FBI office. After that, it was a two-hour long press conference, followed by an emergency meeting called by his board.

He finally managed time to visit the plant before darkness fell, before he had to don his cape and pursue the leads Alfred had uncovered.

Bruce stood at the edge of the still-intact R&D tower, overlooking the smouldered remains of the reactor building. All the Kryptonite has been transported and stored in a secure location, and reconstruction work has just begun. He only narrowly avoided having the whole place from being shut down and sealed as an active crime scene.

Bruce's Kryptonite technology made him a lot of enemies. Big players in the energy industry were bankrupted, the status quo disrupted, when he came into the picture and charged next to nothing for the electricity generated from his Kryptonite power plants.

There were a lot of people who wants to see him destroyed. Or dead.

"How long before we can get it up and running again?" Bruce enquired.

Hank consulted his tablet, "Estimated completion date is a fifty-eight days from now, Mr Wayne. And the rebuilding is quoted to cost an upwards of 50 million dollars."

Bruce nodded, casting his glance out towards the horizon, where the sun was dipping slowly. Batman has work to do.

"Just get it done as soon as possible."

* * *

"Please, I don't know anything! He was going to…I- I did it for my family," the man swayed helplessly from being hung upside down on the rafters.

"My…my father, he's sick! We needed the money. I swear, I didn't know what he was planning. I've never met him. He paid me in cryptocurrency."

"How do you know it was a 'him'?"

"I- I- I- don't! Her! Or Him! I don't know anything. Please let me go!"

Bruce believed him. This was a dead end, and if it were under any other circumstances, Bruce would have hired this guy. He made Bruce spend almost half a day to trace the footprints of the hacked security footage back to him.

Bruce worked away at the hacker's computer, tuning out the noises of pleading coming from the man.

Bruce froze at the screen, "You entered the system after the explosion."

His fingers dug into the man's cheeks as he growled, "What did you do with the original files?"

"He has it! I gave him the files, the backups, everything. Please, please, I won't tell a soul! I swear!"

Bruce tightened his hold on the man, "You won't tell a soul about what?"

"The- the reason you're looking for the files…I- I know Superman is your- your ally," The man stammered.

* * *

It didn't take long for Bruce to track down the people who planted the explosives in his plant, based on the descriptions provided by the hacker, who has watched the real security footage. They were just thugs, hitmen, hired to execute the plan and tie up loose ends. A week was all it took for Batman to round all of them up, and make them spill on the person who hired them, a has-been who had lost a tidy sum of his revenue to Bruce.

The initial goal was purely motivated by monetary gains, and the ultimate target was Wayne Enterprises. That he could deal with.

But the leaked footage of the explosion complicated things. Like the hacker, the bombers had incidentally watched the footage of Superman being incapacitated by the fuel material used in Bruce Wayne's power plants. And now the files were circulating widely throughout the criminal underworld, just another commodity to be traded. Who knew how many have watched it.

It won't be long before the footage ends up on the mainstream media and becomes public knowledge.

Shutting the plants down was not the logical solution. He can't put the planet at risk, just because of one alie- Clark. Bruce knows that he can't. Or at least his brain does. His heart, on the other hand, disagrees vehemently.

Clark was spinning himself around Bruce's swivel chair lazily, his head back and eyes closed.

"You don't seem too worried over everything I've just said," Bruce noted, "And stop breaking my chair."

Clark stopped the chair, "Your surveillance system can withstand the blast."

"What good are they if they can't?" Bruce frowned in question. He snatched the Batarang from Clark's fidgeting hands roughly, "Will you focus? Victor has helped to scour the internet and delete the files, but whoever has the original files is keeping them offline."

First, Bruce promised Clark that he would get rid of the Kryptonite. Then, Bruce promised Clark that no one was going to know of the Kryptonite in his power plants. Third, Bruce promised Clark that he would take care of the whole damn mess.

Seems like he couldn't do anything right these days.

"Clark."

"It's fine, Bruce."

Bruce had an inkling that he was going to be mad at Clark again, "What's fine?"

Clark shook his head, "Don't waste your time on the files. The bombers have been apprehended. Case closed."

"I know, you're going to tell me to lay low until we find whoever has them, but I can't. And even I don't have the power to make someone un-see what they've watched. So it's fine. I'll just have be more careful."

Clark found another Batarang on the table, "Besides, Barry's working on a way to treat Kryptonite poisoning."

"Is he? With what?"

"Something about stem cells, I don't know the details," Clark shrugged. He straightened abruptly from the chair, "I have to go. Later, Bruce."

"Hey, give it back," Bruce fumed at Clark's retreating form.

Alfred later found the Batarang in the kitchen fridge, of all places.

"Do I even want to know?" Alfred narrowed his eyes at Bruce and dropped the Batarang into his open palm.

"No."


	3. Chapter 3

Clark almost ripped the cafe's glass door off the hinges in his haste to enter the establishment.

Lois' salad bowl was already empty.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Clark winced, "There was a traffic…mishap."

He hasn't been seeing Lois all that much lately, ever since she was promoted to Managing editor of Current Affairs last year. She had her own office now, which Clark found to be empty more often than not.

"You never need to apologise for being late, Smallville."

"Even if I'm an hour late?" Clark teased, "So, you wanted to tell me something?"

Lois handed him an envelop, "I wanted to give you this. Personally."

"Oh," Clark looked down at the tastefully designed wedding invitation.

_Lois & Nathan_

_Request the pleasure of your company at the celebration of their union._

"It would mean a lot to me if you were there," Lois reached out and placed a hand on top of Clark's.

Before Doomsday, he would dream about marrying Lois Lane, the both of them adopting a kid like ma and pa did, and living in a nice, big farm, like a normal, happy family would. He never stopped dreaming about it, even though it was more of a fantasy than a vision now. He never stopped loving Lois, even though it has been nearly three years since they broke up, and two since Lois found Nathan.

Clark stayed out of the couple's way mostly, found himself engineering excuses to decline their dinner invitations. It was just too painful. He couldn't bear to watch Lois fall in love with someone else.

It was petty, and unbecoming of Superman. But Clark just…couldn't.

"Of course I'll be there, Lo. Uh…congratulations!"

He didn't even know that they were engaged in the first place.

"Clark…"

Clark forced a smile, "It's uh…I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

It was clear Lois saw through his grimace of a smile, but she didn't pry further. She changed the topic instead, "I heard that the bombers were caught yesterday."

"Huh?"

"The bombers? Who blew up the Wayne power plant?" Lois tilted her head to the side.

"Oh," Clark said, "Yeah. It was just some rich guy who begrudges Bruce for making him a bit less richer than he used to be."

"Wow, so case closed. That's good to hear. I was still worried that it was someone like Luthor, who's plotting to get to you."

Clark cleared his throat, "Ah…yeah, no. Nothing like that."

"Clark?" Lois questioned, in a tone reminiscent of his mother's whenever he was hiding something behind his unconvincing poker face.

He mumbled, "Well…there may be this surveillance footage showcasing the effects of Kryptonite on Superman floating around the black market at the moment."

Lois gaped, "Clark! That's dangerous! Someone is going to use it against you. No offence to Bruce, but even Batman can't guarantee the security of all his power plants at all times."

Clark didn't understand why everyone was so worried, "Lo, it's just like before he locked up all the Kryptonite there is in the world. I've lived with it then, and I'll live with it now. I'll be fine."

Lois disagreed, "Before this, the pieces of Kryptonite were scattered around the globe, Clark. Now, Wayne Industries has all of them concentrated in his plants. That amount of Kryptonite in one place, it's more than enough to take you down in a minute."

Clark smiled wryly, "More like a milisecond. But what's done is done. Bruce revolutionised the whole of the energy industry. We can't go back to how it was before."

Lois' face was still wrecked with concern, "Just promise me you'll-"

Clark cut her off, "You know I can't promise anything, Lo."

That was what had ended their relationship: Clark's refusal to promise Lois that they will never have a repeat of Doomsday. Clark can't promise that. If it came down to Lois' life and the sake of the planet, he will make the sacrifice, again and again, no matter how many times it takes.

_"I don't want to be the one left behind, Clark. I'm sorry."_

* * *

Recently, Clark found himself dropping by Bruce's increasingly frequently. He has been appearing in Bruce's mansion everyday now. He would claim that it was Alfred's cooking, but it was because Bruce was one of the very few friends Clark could hang out with as himself, without having to hide anything. It didn't hurt that Gotham was just a stone's throw to Metropolis, literally. Clark actually tried that once, throwing a stone from Metropolis to Gotham, as a joke, and accidentally dented someone's satellite dish.

Bruce frowned at him, "And here I thought I was the grumpy one."

"Huh. Self-awareness. Didn't know you were capable of that," Clark rebutted, and then sighed, "It's nothing…it's just…Lois is getting married."

"So?" Bruce grunted.

Clark didn't expect Bruce to understand. That guy probably never had fallen in love, seeing how he cycled through women like clothes. And for as long as Clark knew him, Bruce never mentioned anything about having a lady in his life.

Clark scoffed. No lady would be able to tolerate Bruce's attitude enough to live with him 24/7, he was sure of that.

"She invited me to the wedding. And I'm not sure if I want to go, but I've already promised her I will."

It felt great to be able to get it off his shoulders. Bruce was probably the only person in the world who wouldn't judge him for whining immaturely like a lovesick teenager.

"Why don't you want to go? I thought you cared about her a lot."

"That's the problem, Bruce. I don't think I've ever gotten over Lois," Clark muttered.

This was the first time he had admitted it out loud.

"That makes two of us."

Clark was startled by the unexpected response. He assumed it was going to be something apathetic, laced with cynicism or maybe a sprinkle of mockery. Clark blinked at back of Bruce's head, the man currently occupied with the numerous screens in front of him.

"I hope you're not talking about Lois too," Clark chuckled nervously.

Bruce finally turned around to glare at him properly through his cowl.

Clark whispered in realisation, "The girl in the photograph."

He remembered the frames on the mantel in Bruce's bedroom. She must be someone close to Bruce's heart if he had her photograph displayed beside that of his parents'. Clark had assumed she was family.

Bruce's voice was soft, "Her name was Rachel."

Clark's heart fell at his use of past tense.

Seemed like Bruce was the one who was left behind.

"You never talked about her," Clark mused aloud.

"What's there to talk about? It was a long time ago."

The pain of losing a loved one never truly goes away. Clark still misses his pa everyday. Time dilutes the pain, enough that it becomes bearable and one could keep moving on, but it will always be present.

He dreaded the day when everyone he loves will be gone, and he would have to keep on living without them, because what other choice does he have?

Clark wondered how the losses would change him, change Superman. Would he become more like Bruce? Was Rachel the reason why Bruce was Batman?

Bruce glanced over his shoulder at Clark, "We knew each other since we were kids. She was…You remind me of her actually. Always trying to do the right thing the right way. Moral compass personified."

Clark couldn't help but ask, "What happened?"

"Batman got her killed. I got her killed," Bruce looked away, and something on one of the screens caught his attention. He mumbled to himself, "Fifth Avenue and Queen," and made preparations to leave.

"Need a lift?" Clark never gets tired of the scathing look sent his way whenever he offered. It has become customary at this point, their parting ritual.

Bruce paused briefly at the doorway, "You would have gotten along with Rachel."

* * *

Superman smiled warmly at the military personnel he passed along the hallway of the Pentagon. He had been called to a meeting with General Swanwick. Clark already knew what the meeting was going to be about, seeing that Bruce was joining them too. The both of them only realised that they were going to the same meeting at breakfast earlier that morning.

"Ah, Superman!" Swanwick greeted him with a handshake, "Thank you for joining us."

"It's no problem, General."

Bruce was already seated at the long table, along with five of Swanwick's guys.

Clark took a seat opposite Bruce, "Mr Wayne."

"Look, is this going to take long? I have a company to run," Bruce drawled.

Publicly, Bruce Wayne was not a fan of Superman at all. Even after Superman saved the Wayne Power Plant from burning down, Bruce Wayne did not appear to have swayed in his position on the alien. A curt 'thanks' was all Superman got in his press conference after the fire, followed by a much warmer thank you to the fire department.

"Mr Wayne, we have recovered the surveillance footage from the explosion in the reactor building. Copies of it are being shared on an obscure site hosted by the dark web. Our officers have shut the site down immediately."

Bruce waved his hand lazily, "What is it going to tell us that we don't already know? Aren't those guys already in custody? The Batman guy did all of your jobs for you."

Swanwick spared a look at Clark, "We are concerned about the content of the footage, about how your power generators are a possible threat to national security."

"Sandwick, is it?" Bruce mispronounced the name deliberately, "I've gotten clearance from every government agency I am required to, demonstrated that my proprietary fuel source poses no threat to the health and life of humankind, and the environment at all. It also doesn't give off any traces of harmful radiation nor does it combust in an explosion. In fact, it has survived the blast entirely intact," Bruce barked, "We've gone through all of these, more than a hundred times over the past two years."

Swanwick asked Clark, "Superman, do you mind if we played the footage for Mr Wayne?"

Clark consented with a nod.

One of Swanwick's guys played the video on the screen. It was Clark's first time watching the footage himself. He hadn't needed to, he had been right there.

Clark saw himself open the lead-lined door, and the screen whited out with the fireball from the explosion. The next few minutes were just of Clark, prone on the ground, a few feet away from the exposed reactor vessel, writhing. Bruce told him that Barry only arrived a good twenty minutes after the explosion.

The green meteor rocks on the screen was igniting phantom pains deep in Clark's stomach. He sneaked a glance at Bruce, whose face was that of a bored billionaire.

"Oh great," Bruce rolled his eyes, "Superman's allergic to my fuel. What do expect me to do, General? Shut down my plants? Go ahead and tell the people that they have to start paying for electricity again."

"No, Mr Wayne. We expect you to do nothing of that sort. The United States Government thank you, for making such a huge contribution to the nation's electricity needs. But since there is evidence that your fuel material has the potential to cause harm to Superman, who is vital to…well, the world; the President has the authority to requisite the ownership of all Wayne power plants under the Defense Production Act."

Clark froze.

No.

No, that couldn't happen.

The only person Clark trusted with Kryptonite was Bruce. Clark's mind ran through all the horrible scenarios which might happen if the government was allowed to have control over the Kryptonite, and by extension, control over Superman.

Bruce's face was livid.

"You can't do that!" Bruce snarled.

"Yes we certainly can, but we won't. Unless," Swanwick addressed Superman, "The decision lies with you, Superman."

"Why?" Clark asked warily.

Was this some sort of test? Why was he given a say in the matter? Why would the President not seize the golden opportunity to take over Bruce's power plants? His fuel technology was worth trillions; and it could also bring Superman to his knees, like a kill switch.

"Because the President wishes to earn your trust, Superman."

That was…nice, of them. Clark heaved a sigh of relief.

Clark looked over at his friend, "Mr Wayne can keep his fuel."

Bruce snorted at him, "Aren't you magnanimous."

Clark fought to suppress his smile. It was kind of Swanwick's men, to be giving Bruce the stink-eye on Clark's behalf.

"Very well," General Swanwick announced to the room, "Since Superman has decided to leave the ownership of the fuel material under the care of Mr Wayne, the power plants will be classified as Restricted Areas, guarded by personnel from the US armed forces. All employees working at these power plants will have to undergo security clearance-"

Clark's concentration drifted as the General continued rattling off the list of changes the power plants would have to undergo to continue operations.

This has turned out way better than what Clark had expected.

It didn't matter how many layers of security the government was going to add. Ultimately, Bruce will still be the one in charge of the Kryptonite, and that was all Clark cared about.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce was in the midst of some delicate soldering when Flash showed up unannounced.

“Batman!” Barry called out chirpily, a gust of wind following his arrival, “Where’s Supes?”

Bruce sighed.

In what way did coming to Bruce’s house and looking for Clark make sense?

“Not here,” Bruce didn’t bother removing his eyes from magnifying scope, “What do you want?”

“He didn’t tell you? He said we could do it here,” Barry walked over to examine one of the cabinets.

“Don’t touch anything,” Bruce warned, “Do what?”

It should bother him that his place has become the unofficial meeting venue for the Justice League, Bruce liked his privacy. It had turned out to be rather nice actually, to have guests over to break up the monotony of the silence. Guests who were not one of Bruce Wayne’s superficial connections. And Alfred sure enjoyed having their company.

“Test this out,” Barry said.

Bruce was forced to look up at what he was referring to.

Barry held up a tube of blood, “Stem cell therapy, to counteract the effects of Kryptonite. I got some samples from Superman, isolated the stem cells. Turns out, all they need is direct sunlight to trigger division and differentiation. Man, and they won’t. Stop. Dividing! All he has to do is just inject these intravenously, after exposure to Kryptonite, and these guys will repair the damage at almost ten times the rate of the normal stem cells in his body, which have never been exposed to direct sunlight.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, “We are not torturing Clark with Kryptonite to test out a hypothesis.”

“But it’s not like I have Kryptonian lab rats to test it out on,” Barry rebuffed, “Just give me one minute! One minute of exposure is more than enough for me to test the potency of the stem cells.”

Bruce shook his head, “Don’t ask me. Ask him.”

“Where is he anyway?”

* * *

“Superman! Help!”

The three masked muggers were tightly bound to one another in a split second. He would deal with them in a minute.

Clark turned his attention back to the man who called for his help, “Are you okay?”

The victim of the mugging was leaning heavily on a cane. The contents of his bag was spilled across the alley in the struggle.

“Let me do it,” Clark kneeled down to retrieve the items.

They were just flyers for a nearby pizza place. And a couple rolls of what Clark assumed was weed-

Clark bit back a scream when something sharp was plunged into his back.

Kryptonite.

The connection between his brain and his legs were instantly cut, and he flopped forward onto his face. Clark's mind shorted out with pain. There was a jagged piece of Kryptonite lodged in his spine.

Why?

He man straightened his stance and abandoned the cane, "Holy shit! I can't believe that worked."

The man went out of Clark's field of vision, to cut the three muggers loose.

A trap. It was a trap, and Clark was too stupid to see a trap set by a couple of thugs.

"Is he…dead?" Someone asked meekly.

"How fucking dumb are you?" Someone else said.

The man who posed as the victim reappeared in front of Clark face. He squatted down, smirking, "I've shivved so many of 'em bastards, you're my first alien."

"Dude, let's go. Before the cops show up."

"I dropped two thousand bucks on that tiny ass piece of green shit, let me have some fun, yeah?" He turned his attention back to Clark, "Relax, I'm not gonna kill you. I ain't afraid of prison, you see. Been living my entire life in 'em. So you go ahead and tell the damn cops, tell everybody, that you got bested by me. Can you imagine the kind of respect I'd get for takin' down the flying Martian?"

Clark clenched his eyes and braced himself when the man moved to grab the Kryptonite. A strangled whimper still managed to escape between his compressed lips when the man twisted his wrist, along with the shard.

"What the fuck dude, that's not right man. You didn't say anything about-"

"What's not right is you not shutting the fuck up!"

He grabbed a fistful of Clark's hair, "Go back to where you came from, E.T. We don't want your kind here."

They left Clark paralysed in the alleyway, but not before the man tried to kick him in his face. The howl of pain following possibly broken toes brought him a tiny sense of satisfaction.

Clark had let his guard down and gotten stabbed, because he was an idiot.

If only his arm could reach-

“Oh my god! Superman!”

It was someone who was taking out their trash.

“You’re bleeding! What should I- I’m going to call 911 alright, don’t move.”

“No,” Clark gritted out, "Pull it out."

"What?! No! That's like the last thing I should do!" The woman shrieked.

"Trust…me," Clark met her panic-filled eyes, "I heal fast."

She hesitated for a second, before Clark felt shaky hands hovering just above the wound.

"O…okay. Okay, count of three then. One-"

A guttural cry tore free of his throat when the shard of Kryptonite was roughly yanked out of him.

"Oh god, oh god! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The relief was instantaneous.

Clark was able to fill his lungs again. He tried to push himself off the ground, but he still couldn't quite feel the lower half of his body.

"Whatever happened to two and three?" Clark groaned.

He winced at the irregularly shaped green shiv in her hands, no bigger than a steak knife, the tip of it covered in his blood.

"What's your name?" Clark asked.

"Huh? My name? It's…It's Katy."

Clark reached for her hand, "Thank you, Katy. You did great."

She let out a nervous laugh, "What happened? Will you…be okay?"

Clark closed his eyes and nodded. He just needed to take a breather, and sunlight to heal.

"What…what do I do with this?" Katy held up the Kryptonite.

Clark should start carrying some kind of a lead-lined glove if this was going to become a recurring situation.

"I'll take care of it," He smiled, "See you around the city, Katy."

* * *

Barry asked,"Hey, do you mind if I ordered pizza and ask them to deliver it-"

"Yes," Bruce wished that Clark would hurry up and come already.

"Fine then. I'll go get it myself," Barry jumped up from the chair, "Do you like pepperoni? Have you ever eaten $10 pizzas? Or $10 anything?"

The sudden crash emanating from somewhere above them snapped Bruce out of his task.

"Master Wayne!"

"Alfred?" Bruce called out as he and Barry went upstairs to check out the commotion.

They found Clark, in the middle of the sea of broken glass, having entered through the glass wall in the foyer. Alfred was trying to help him up from the ground, unsuccessfully.

"Careful Alfred," Clark said softly, "You'll cut yourself."

"Jesus Kent, use the door next time," Bruce lent them both a hand, "What the hell happened?"

"Sorry," Clark grimaced, "My legs aren't working very well at the moment," he looked at Barry, "Barry, you wanted to test the stem cells."

"Yeh….es?"

"Well? Let's get to it."

* * *

"Do you think they got it from the explosion?" Clark wondered, lying on his side in the bed.

Bruce shrugged.

There was still the few hundred tonnes of Kryptonite unaccounted for. Bruce wouldn't know the answer for sure, not until he tracked down the ones responsible for this attack. This was number one on his agenda for the night.

Barry whistled on the other side of the bed, examining Clark's back, "If you were a human, you'd probably never walk again."

"Good thing I'm not, then," Clark looked crestfallen.

Clark hasn't offered much details about what happened, only that he was surprised with a Kryptonite knife, which Clark had brought here in a lead pipe.

It was barely a month after the explosion, and Bruce's worries were already coming true. Clark's encounter with Kryptonite was only going to get more common, as more people discover his reaction to the meteor rock.

It was ridiculous. Clark, who was supposed to be the most invulnerable of them all, was turning out to become the most frequent patient in Bruce's medical bay. Even Bruce hadn't needed to use it for a few months now.

And for a man who's superpower was lightning speed, Flash seemed to be taking his own sweet time. Bruce huffed impatiently, "Allen, are you done? Is it working?"

"Seems like it is."

"Seems like?" Bruce pressed.

"The wound's all healed on the outside. And unless you've got an MRI machine somewhere in this building, I can't give you a quantitative answer. Wait, you don't right? Because that would-"

Bruce ignored his ludicrous question.

Clark took stock of himself, "I feel fine now," he wriggled his toes, "Back to normal."

"If only those super cells of yours can also put my wall back together," Bruce joked. He wanted to erase the frown on Clark's face.

"I'll pay for it."

Bruce levelled Clark a look, "Please don't," and then addressed Barry, "What's the final verdict, doc?"

Barry held up a finger, "Disclaimer though, I'm not a real doctor. I'm a scientist. And in my scientific opinion, the injection did manage to halve the healing time, after I compared it to the day of the fire."

He turned the computer screen displaying a brightly coloured graph, "My calculations have compensated for differences in the amount and duration of Kryptonite exposure. So…long story short, I'd say it's a success!"

Bruce walked nearer to scrutinise the data, hands on his hips, "Good job, kid."

"Nah, just doing my part for the team," Barry beamed, "Anything for Superman."

Clark finally cracked a smile, "Thanks, Barry."

It was not ideal, since this was more of a treatment than prevention. Bruce would have to figure out a way to carry a tube of these cells in his utility belt.

* * *

Clark called out, "Wait," Bruce was already in his suit, halfway out door, "Let me come with?"

"I'm going after Kryptonite. You'll be more liability than help," Bruce said candidly.

Clark sighed. He couldn't argue with that.

"Can I…stay here then?"

Bruce only grunted in response. Clark took that as a yes.

Clark flopped back down onto Bruce's chair in the Batcave, staring, but not seeing the monitors illuminating the darkened room.

He should probably return to his apartment in Metropolis, but he didn't want to be alone.

Bruce's place was probably the safest place for him in the world, a small voice in his brain supplied.

How ironic, seeing how Bruce was the first person to-

No.

"Don't be a wimp," Clark muttered under his breath. He just needed to sleep this off.

Clark has been in worse situations, faced bigger enemies, won fights with far greater stakes. He shouldn't let a couple of…racists get to him.

_"People hate what they don't understand, Clark."_

He would fly back to Kansas, if it weren't already past ma's bedtime. Clark shut his eyes and focused on the sounds of her even breathing, pretending that she was right here by his side.

All these years as Superman, Clark tried his best to ignore the protests and the naysayers. Nobody could please everybody after all. He tried to be more like Bruce, who let insults and barbs roll off his back with ease.

The keyword being 'tried'.

Clark would unintentionally overhear a conversation, and it was near impossible to not let it ruin his entire day.

Why couldn't they just leave him be? He just wanted to help. What did they want from him? Stand by and do nothing?

"Master Kent?"

"Alfred."

"Master Wayne said you'll be keeping me company tonight," Alfred smiled warmly, taking a seat beside Clark.

"Seems like I am."

Clark loved talking to Alfred. The man was a wealth of knowledge and wisdom. He also had tons of stories about the war, adventures about the time he was a spy. Not to mention stories about the Wayne family, especially those of a much younger Bruce.

"Alfred?"

Alfred turned.

"Do you think that I should be more like Bruce?" Clark asked.

"Now, why in the world would you want that?" Alfred teased, "If you ask me, I think it should be the other way around."

Clark shrugged, "I don't know. It seems like it would be easier to…focus on this," he gestured to the screens, "If I didn't care about what people have to say."

"The thing about critics and haters, sir, is that they can get too loud to ignore. And it'll be useful to ask yourself, 'why?'. You'll find that the hate and anger doesn't come from any place of the truth. These people are hurting inside, and wants to take it out on someone."

"Sometimes, Master Kent, I find the trick is to care very deeply about what people say."

Clark nodded, "Thanks, Alfred."

Alfred typed in the password for the computer, and brought up a map indicating Bruce's location.

The earpiece in Alfred's ear crackled to life, "Alright, Alfred. I've rounded up the three of them. The last one wasn't in. Give me another address for Schiff."

Bruce Wayne was a frequent visitor in Metropolis, but Batman rarely ventured into the bigger city across the bay. Bruce once said that Gotham had more than enough crimes in itself to keep Batman busy. Tonight though, he was making an exception for Clark.

"Is he still there?" Bruce asked.

Alfred glanced at Clark questioningly.

Bruce sounded annoyed, "They're just…low-level hooligans. How in the hell did they manage to get a jump on you?"

There were muffled noises of Bruce hitting someone, in between bouts of interrogation.

Clark sighed in exasperation. It wasn't Bruce he was mad at, but himself.

A final thud, and then there was a mocking laugh.

Clark recognised the voice of the man, "Wow, is E.T. afraid of me? That why he sent you to beat me up instead, that coward? I ain't saying shi- Ahhhhhh"

Bruce cut his audio feed. Not that it was going to stop Clark from listening in, if he wanted to. But this was more than enough for today.

Clark didn't want…He just-

He bid goodbye to Alfred and took off into the night sky.

Clark spent the rest of the night just drifting in the vacuum of space, basking in the warmth of the Sun and the silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Clark changed out of his suit and collapsed onto his couch. It has been a whirlwind of a morning. First, it had been a volcano eruption in Indonesia, where Clark helped to get all of the lifestock out of the blast zone. He was pretty sure there were chicken feathers stuck in his hair, he could still smell it. Then, it was a factory fire in India, followed by a sink hole and building collapse in Uruguay.

He gave himself a ten minute breather, before he was out the door again.

The first stop of the day for Clark Kent was the cafe opposite the Planet.

"An americano for…Lark!"

Clark made his way to the barista, "Uh…I guess that's me. Thank you."

He took the lid off and took a healthy gulp of the hot beverage. The bitter tang of coffee jolted his system awake.

Clark was holding the cardboard cup in between his teeth and looking at his ringing phone, when someone barrelled into him. Wha- He wasn't even in anyone's way, having stopped against a wall.

"Ow sh-," The man who collided with Clark cursed.

"Sorry," Clark apologised instinctively. Colliding into Clark probably felt like walking into a wall.

The coffee had sloshed out of the cup and onto the front of Clark's shirt. That was disappointing, it was his favourite shirt.

"It's me who should be apologising," The blond man looked up, "Look, I'll buy you a new cup of coffee," he took the almost empty cup out of Clark's lax fingers.

"That's not necessary, really," Clark glanced at the snaking queue at the counter.

"Okay then, sorry, again. I'll throw this out for you."

"I- Okay. Uh, thanks," Clark's turned his attention back to his phone, "Hello? Chief! Sorry, sorry, I'll be there in a jiffy!"

Clark hung up before Perry finished his tirade.

"Kent? Kent! KENT!"

Clark could hear Perry yelling for him before he the elevator doors even opened.

"I'm here! I'm here, chief," Clark ran and skidded to a stop before the man.

Perry regarded him critically, "Where the damn hell have you been? And why are you covered in coffee?"

"Um…"

Perry wrinkled his nose, "Well, change into something clean, you have a fundraiser luncheon to cover," he handed Clark the printout.

"Wayne's- I thought Jenny was supposed to be covering this."

"They asked for you," Perry simply said, "And this will be AFTER you turn in the article on the housing project demolition in the Upper West Side, right? Been chasing after you for that since last week!"

"Sorry, I'll get it in before lunch," Clark gave a sheepish smile as he started up his computer.

"Oh, and Kent?" Perry doubled back, "Get me some quotes from Wayne, of his position on his power plants and Superman."

Clark cringed internally, "I thought Reagan was writing that article for Lois."

Rumours and speculation started once people noticed military presence at the power plants. Not long after that, the surveillance footage surfaced in mainstream media, and began to spread like wildfire.

Clark knew Bruce was up to his neck with trying to manage the situation, so he had been giving Bruce a wide berth recently. The last message Clark had received from Bruce was a week ago:

_Found K. Safe in my vault._

The vague message didn't really explain much. Did Bruce recover all of the missing Kryptonite? Did he only manage to find some of it? The Kryptonite was safe in Bruce's vault? Or was he suggesting that Clark should hide in his vault instead?

Clark had asked: _Thank you. Did you_ _find_ a _ll of them?_

Bruce later replied with a vaguely threatening reply:

_No. Watch yourself._

Clark assumed Bruce meant to say something like 'be careful', but because he was Bruce, it came across as menacing instead of caring.

Perry huffed, snapping his fingers in Clark's face, "He's not the one going to the luncheon, you are. Stop shirking responsibilities, Kent. I'm not paying you the senior reporter's salary for you to slack off all day."

"I'm not-," Clark bit his tongue and swallowed his words.

* * *

The fundraiser was held at the Grand Hyatt downtown.

Clark's focus drifted off as Bruce gave his address on the stage. His right hand scribbled notes absentmindedly, as Bruce droned on about how great the new candidate running for senator was.

Clark tries not to pick sides or meddle in politics. Superman can't afford to have any bias.

Lunch was finally served after the address, but before Clark could even finish his appetiser, he heard Bruce's voice, coming from one of the rooms down the hall, "Clark? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Clark stuffed the rest of the food into his mouth before making his way out of the ballroom.

"What's wrong with Jenny?" Clark asked when Bruce answered the door.

"Who?"

Clark shook his head, "You had her switched out. She was supposed to be the correspondent for the Planet."

"Oh, right. Nothing. I just wanted to check in with you-"

Clark spluttered, "You could have just called!"

"If I called, would you have picked up?"

"Yes! Why wouldn't I?" Clark was baffled.

"Oh," Bruce was taken aback, "Oh. I thought you were mad, about how it all turned out. The mess with- Now everyone knows."

"Trust me, Bruce. If I was mad, you'd know," Clark was never a fan of the silent treatment, "And thanks by the way, for this extra article that I'd have to work on now."

Bruce fidgeted, "Well, you haven't been dropping by the lake house lately. Alfred asked if…everything's okay?"

"Alfred," Clark raised an eyebrow, "Asked."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Fine. I'm asking too."

"I'm good," Clark shrugged, "I mean, you've already got most of the missing Kryptonite off the market. And now the power plants are like Fort Knox. Our problem's mostly solved. I haven't encountered any Kryptonite since."

"Alfred mentioned that you were upset when you left that night."

Bruce must have been referring to the day Clark had been stabbed.

Clark's eyes narrowed, "Bruce, that was almost two weeks ago."

"Yes?" Bruce titled his head to one side.

Clark let out a breathy chuckle, "Let me get this straight. Alfred told you that I, your friend, was upset. And instead of, you know, calling me like a normal person does, you wait for weeks before piling me with more work as an excuse to ask me if I'm fine."

Bruce opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

Clark had been upset for a few days, but he has mostly moved passed it now. He had taken Alfred's advice to heart, spent the weekend with ma at the farm to recharge. Clark couldn't help but be amused. He didn't know if it was the Billionaire part or the Batman part of Bruce which made the man so emotionally inept.

Clark smirked, "There's a way you can make it up to me. Perry wants me to get some quotes from Bruce Wayne."

* * *

"Need a hand with that, Katy?" He smiled, leaning against the car with a flat tire.

Clark was on the way to Bruce’s when he spotted the familiar face at the roadside.

Katy looked up from trying to loosen the lugs with the tire iron, "Superman! I would think changinga flat would be beneath you," she laughed and stepped back from her car, "How did you find me?"

Clark got the tire swapped out in less than a second.

"Saw you from up there," Clark pointed to the sky.

"Thanks."

Clark gave her a wink, "See you around Katy."

He took off in the direction of Gotham.

"Morning Alfred," Clark greeted cheerily.

"Ah just in time, Master Kent," Alfred was setting up the dining table for breakfast.

Bruce joined them in the room not long after. He unfolded the morning's newspaper and took a sip of coffee.

Clark noted the article on the front page, "I'm sorry about the…protests."

_Wayne Industries' Clean Fuel: A Necessary Evil?_

_Bruce Wayne Says Superman Welcome to Find Another Planet to Call Home If He's Scared._

"It's hardly a protest," Bruce waved nonchalantly at the photograph of people crowding front of the Wayne Enterprises building with pro-Superman signs, "I've seen worse."

"Still," Clark shrugged before changing the topic, "Oh! You're not gonna believe what I did yesterday."

"I'm pretty sure I can," Bruce retorted plainly.

Clark recounted how he answered a call for help, and found a man, the same man who bumped into him and spilled coffee all over Clark's shirt, stuck high up in a tree in the heart of Centennial Park with a kitten. The man had clung to Clark like a Koala on the way down to the ground.

Clark assumed that Bruce would be as amused as he was at the coincidence. But the man frowned instead, "Do you know what that sounds like? A trap. You could have easily gotten stabbed again."

Clark rolled his eyes, "Don't be absurd. The man was just helping a kitten out. A very cute kitten, mind you."

"Exactly! A kitten. Why would a kitten be on a tree? Why would anyone bring a kitten to the park? For a walk?" Bruce snorted, "It's obviously bait."

Clark bristled, "Cats climb trees and get stuck all the time."

"Did you at least check if he had weapons on him before you went in?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

Clark stayed silent. Maybe he should have, but it was just a simple case of a man stuck in a tree. 

Bruce sighed, "Your invulnerability is your biggest weakness, Clark. You charge into a situation thinking that nothing can hurt you."

"Most things can't," Clark pointed out, "I've been at this for years. I know how to take care of myself."

Bruce placed his hands flat on the table and leaned forward, "You need training."

Clark hadn't expected that. Bruce was volunteering to train Clark? For free? That was what he had been hoping for. Clark has always admired Bruce for his proficiency in combat tactics and martial arts.

"Really? When do we start?" Clark beamed excitedly.

"What?" Bruce's eyes widened in surprise, "No 'I don't need training from a weak, powerless human, Bruce'?"

"Well, you're neither of those,"Clark frowned at Bruce putting himself down, "Bruce, if I didn't have my powers, you'd hand me my butt. There's no question about that. So, teach me. Please. I want to learn."

* * *

"That could work," Bruce hummed, mulling over Barry's idea.

Barry, projected on Bruce's screen, nodded eagerly, "So we just need to build some red sun lamps. Easy peez."

"I'll-," Bruce was interrupted by a text on his phone, he frowned at the singular-worded message by Clark.

_Help_

"I'll take care of the lamps," Bruce logged off immediately.

Clark was in trouble, and if he was asking for Bruce's help, instead of coming to him, it must be bad. He triangulated the location of Clark's phone immediately.

He was…at home?

The man better not be crying wolf. Clark knew better than that.

Bruce dialled. No answer.

Should he drive? Or should he take the Batwing?

He decided on the car. It was slower, but a lot more inconspicuous in brightly-lit Metropolis.

"Alfred!" Bruce yelled, on his way to the garage, "I'm taking the car to Metropolis! It's Clark."

Traffic was still pretty heavy in Metropolis. Bruce swerved in and out of the lanes, around other vehicles, ignoring all the horns and middle fingers thrown his way. All the while, repeatedly calling Clark's phone, heart sinking lower and lower with each voicemail message.

Bruce parked the car in the back alleyway beside Clark's building, shrouded in darkness. Bruce craned his neck. The lights in Clark's apartment were on.

When Bruce finally reached Clark's door, he paused, reconnoitring. Nothing seemed to be amiss. No indication of a fight or struggle, Clark's door was still locked, and his television was on.

"Bruce," He heard through the door, followed by harsh coughing.

Bruce didn't waste any more time. He opened the door with the spare key Clark had given him, "Clark?"

"Here," Clark's strained voice carried from the direction of the bathroom. Bruce spotted the mess on his couch…there was spilled glitter everywhere. What the hell was going on?

"What's-," Bruce found Clark hunched over the bathroom sink.

The tap was left running, washing away most but not all of the red smearing the pristine white sink.

There was only one thing which could make Clark bleed like that.

Clark coughed, a drop of bright red landing onto the porcelain, before being washed away by the running water. Bruce grabbed Clark's arm and moved him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. Clark didn't put up any resistance.

"Kryptonite. How bad?" Bruce checked him over, heaved a sigh of relief when Clark seemed to already be recovering.

His head was bowed down, breaths still ragged, but he had stopped coughing up blood at least.

"Stay here," Bruce ordered and returned to the living room to survey the scene.

A documentary about the Great Barrier Reef was on TV. A half-written article on Clark's laptop, which was also covered with spilled glitter. Red and blue glitter, with some fine green dust in the mix. There wasn't a lot of it, not enough to cause any damage and make Clark sick, if he hadn't inhaled it. How the heck did that even happen?

The glitter came from a generic Hallmark card, lying face down on the carpet.

Bruce ran a frustrated hand down his face. It wasn't that Clark shouldn't let his guard down in the comfort of his own apartment, but Clark's guard was virtually non-existent when he wasn't facing down an enemy in a fight.

With his gloves, he picked up the torn open envelop in the midst of the glittery mess.

It was addressed to 'Clark Kent'.

Alarms blared in Bruce's brain. That wasn’t good.

There was still something in the envelop. Bruce shook it out onto the carpet.

The sight of the Joker card set off a fire burning deep in Bruce’s gut. And he actually thought things couldn't get any more worse than they are right now.

The Joker knew who Superman was. 

The poker card crumpled between Bruce's fingers.

He made sure that he didn't have any Kryptonite on him before he returned to the bathroom, “It’s the Joker.”

Clark lifted his head minutely, “But how-,” His voice hoarse.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed when he recalled what Clark had mentioned off-handedly, “Last week, that man in the tree, the man whom you’ve had contact with as both Clark Kent and Superman. Who is he?”

“What? I don’t know, Bruce. He’s just- It’s a coincidence, that’s all,” Clark shrugged tiredly, red-rimmed eyes looking up at Bruce.

“Nothing is ever a coincidence. He must be connected to this somehow.”

Clark shook his head, “Even if he is, I don’t know who he is.”

“I’ll take care of that. Just tell me everything you know," Bruce tried to remain calm.

He was not panicking.

No, he wasn't.

Except, Joker was plotting something. Something big. The Kryptonite greeting card was nothing. He was only taunting Superman, and Batman.

And whenever the Joker plots, somebody dies.

Clark started to stand up, but Bruce kept a hand on his shoulder, "Wait. I have to clean up the mess. You should take a shower. Wash off the remaining Kryptonite on you."

Bruce turned to leave, and was stopped by a hand around his wrist, "Bruce?"

"Thanks for coming."

* * *

Bruce used the vacuum cleaner in the corner of the living room to clean up all the glitter. He would have to buy Clark a new one, because this was going back to the cave for Bruce to go through as evidence.

Also, mostly because Bruce couldn't be bothered to have to clean out the vacuum cleaner afterwards.

"I didn't know you knew what a vacuum was," Clark joked, a faint smile on his face.

His hair was still damp from the shower, making it curl limply on his forehead. Bruce rarely saw him like this. If the world could see how Superman looked, fresh out of the shower- Bruce gave a curt nod, "I'll get a new one delivered tomorrow."

"What?"

"The vacuum cleaner."

Clark's grin widened, "Bruce, they're not…disposable."

"I know that!" Bruce scowled in irritation, "Just…let me have this one, alright?"

Clark's smile dropped at once and he flopped down onto his couch, "Suit yourself."

Bruce chided himself. He cleared his throat, "You know, I wasn't joking when I told you need to be more careful."

"I have been."

"You call this being careful? How could you not have seen this?"

It was ridiculous how Superman could be surprised by his mail. The Joker hadn’t even made an effort, the envelop wasn’t even lead-lined. Clark just wasn't taking his advice seriously enough, and Bruce couldn't help him if he didn't want to make an effort.

When Bruce feels helpless, he gets mad.

"I'm not always paying attention," Clark defended, "I was just opening mail!"

"Well, you can't afford to not be paying attention," Bruce said, "Lesson number one: X-ray your damn mail."

"I don't think they're going to try that aga-"

Bruce snapped, "God damn it, Clark! How long would it take you to do that, a millisecond? You can't even spare a millisecond?!"

Clark didn't answer, and Bruce didn't bother waiting for him to. Apparently Kryptonian skulls were impenetrable to advices.

"Wait, Bruce. The Joker, I can-"

"No," Bruce growled, a stern finger pointed at Clark, "Stay away from him."

Bruce didn't want Clark anywhere near the psychopathic clown. The last thing Bruce needed was for Clark to fall into his hands. He could corrupt even the whitest knight. And if someone as powerful as Superman turned against humanity, they were all doomed.

Bruce saw the uncertainty in Clark's face. Clark was thinking that he could take on the Joker. Superman was stronger, faster, and he was almost invulnerable. He had taken on Zod, Doomsday, and Steppenwolf. There was no reason why he should be afraid of a mere mortal, whose windpipe he could crush with one finger.

But Clark didn't understand.

_"You have nothing, nothing to threaten me with. Nothing to do with all your strength."_

"But I can he-"

Bruce closed the distance between them, his fists clenched by his side, "He's not your problem. He's mine."

Clark's eyes narrowed, "He came after me, Bruce. That makes him my problem too."

"Kent," Bruce warned.

Clark had his hands raised in front of him, "I just want to help. I'll follow your lead. I'll do whatever you say."

Bruce knew there was probably no changing Clark's mind. It was either this or risk having Clark go look for the Joker behind Bruce's back. 

Was Bruce going to regret this? Probably.

Bruce relented, "Come by the cave tomorrow."


	6. Chapter 6

"I found him," Clark announced when he arrived at the Batcave.

Clark spotted the man on the streets, the one Bruce thought was working with the Joker, while he was flying back home last night. A part of him had been tempted to just swoop down and confront the guy, but Bruce had asked him to wait. Not wanting to evoke Bruce's wrath, Clark simply followed and observed the man for a few blocks. But before he could delve any deeper, he was called away by a building fire on the other side of the country.

"Yeah. That's-," Clark was staring at the man in question on Bruce's screen, "Him."

Bruce also had the guy's entire life story displayed on the screen.

"Released from Arkham last year," Bruce swivelled around in his chair to face Clark, "I told you. Nothing's a coincidence."

Clark pursed his lips, "Okay, so what do we do now?"

They could interrogate him, find out what the Joker's plan was, thwart it without the Joker even knowing what hit him.

"I'm working on a few leads. Now, we train."

"Oh?"

"Follow me," Bruce started walking, and Clark trailed behind him.

Bruce led him to the gymnasium. Clark went closer to inspect the mess of wiring and lighting panels all around the spacious room.

"As far as we know, you wouldn't have any powers on Krypton. And that's because Krypton revolved around a red dwarf."

"Yes?" Clark nodded apprehensively.

"Barry and I, we were working through this yesterday. When we placed your cells under light similar to that emitted by Krypton's Sun, they were depleted of all of their solar energy stores in under two hours. And most importantly, the health of cells doesn't seem to be affected at all," Bruce hung a lamp onto a stand, "You, on the cot."

Clark obeyed, lying down onto the cot set up in the corner, surrounded by five of those lamps. He looked up at Bruce, who was adjusting the height of one of the stands.

The last time Clark was under a red star, he was only a newborn. He had absolutely no clue how his body was going to react to rays from a red dwarf, now that he has acclimated to Earth's Sun. He was equal parts nervous and excited.

"Ready?" Bruce had his fingers on the switch.

Before Clark could even open his mouth to respond, he was bathed in the red, pulsing glow from the lamps. He flinched, expecting to feel pain, or burning.

He let out a short laugh of relief when nothing hurt.

"Are you feeling okay?" Bruce checked.

Clark brought up his hand, his skin tinted red from the light. Even though red-coloured lights were usually associated with being warm, the rays from the lamp actually felt cooling on Clark's skin. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, just a little…strange.

"I think so?" Clark nodded, "And how long would it take for me to recover from this," he gestured to the lamps around him.

Clark couldn't afford to be powerless for too long, in case Superman was needed somewhere.

"The cells were able to replenish their solar energy stores almost immediately, following exposure to direct sunlight," Bruce stopped tinkering with the lamps and sat down beside Clark.

Between the coolness of the lamps and the sounds of Bruce's constant tapping on the keyboard of his laptop, Clark must have drifted off.

He was rudely awakened by a sharp pinch on his arm.

"Ow!" Clark rubbed at the sore spot on his bicep and glared at Bruce, who was holding a needle in between his fingers.

"Oh, you felt that. Seventy-five minutes," Bruce checked his watch.

"Seventy-," Clark sat up.

Clark tested his strength on frame of the cot. The metal was unyielding. He concentrated on the silence around him.

Nothing. Not even Bruce's breathing was audible to his now human hearing.

It was a little disconcerting, and the lack of his usual sensory input was making him feel a little off-balance.

Bruce had already changed into his training gear, "Get up. Let's get training. I don't have all day."

* * *

"Ow!"

Bruce grunted with a smirk, "That was a barely glancing blow."

Clark growled in irritation. Bruce was totally enjoying this, wasn't he?

Bruce had started the training with a test of sorts: "I want to see where your skill is at before we start anything. Here, try and pin me down."

Clark had underestimated how much he relied on his powers. Now that he was stripped of it, he could barely touch Bruce.

At first, he had tried to think tactically, tried to recall all the various moves and tricks he had learnt from observing Batman in action. But after an hour of making absolutely no advancement, Clark had resorted to trying anything and everything.

"Okay, okay," Clark remained on the floor, "I yield. There's just no way I can win."

Bruce clucked his tongue, "Kent…"

Clark waited until Bruce turned his back to him, before he jumped upright and barrelled straight at Bruce. Clark was able to tackle Bruce onto the ground with the element of surprise on his side. His victory was short-lived however, when Bruce rolled around and kneed Clark in the gut, and before his next heartbeat, Clark was the one pinned fast onto the ground.

"Fighting dirty, are we?" Bruce let Clark go, "Okay, we can stop."

Clark groaned and curled up into himself. He ached, everywhere. If he was a human, Clark was sure that he would just be a big walking bruise the next day.

Was this how Bruce always feel like after a fight?

Clark laid still to catch his breath, his eyes following Bruce around as his friend turned off the red lamps. The blinds on the window were opened with a remote controller in Bruce's hand, and golden sunlight flooded the gymnasium.

Clark drank in the sunlight greedily, like a man drinking water after being stranded in a desert.

The aches faded away, and the sounds from around the world came roaring back.

* * *

Bruce laughed under his breath and shook his head. Clark was basking and stretching in the Sun, letting out a series of obscene groans.

He reminded Bruce of the orange tabby living in the mansion when Bruce was five. It wasn't Bruce's pet. It wasn't anybody's pet, not at first. The cat had just appeared at the estate one day, and despite repeated attempts by the grounds staff to shoo it away, had stubbornly refused to leave. It wasn't long before the cat was assimilated into the family.

Except this time, it was less a cat, and more a...Clark.

Clark was sporting his thousand-yard stare, something he does when he's listening to the sounds of the world. Bruce quietly watched his friend, under the guise of stretching his muscles and cooling down after the workout.

It wasn't that much of a workout for Bruce. Clark was woefully unskilled in hand-to-hand combat without his powers.

Bruce knew Superman's fighting techniques like the back of his hand. Superman makes full use of his powers whenever he can, and he was good at that. His control of his powers is impeccable, and Bruce attributed it to the decades of learning how to restrain himself.

There wasn't anything wrong with his approach to fighting, since it has worked for them thus far, but Clark never learnt to fight without his powers. Bruce assumed that Clark was just never allowed to, seeing how Mr Kent had forbade him from even playing sports in high school.

This was something Clark needed to learn. Especially now that people were learning more and more about extraterrestrials, about Kryptonians, and their weaknesses.Someday, somehow, people are going to figure out Clark's weakness in red sunlight, or Krypton's toxic air, or some other meteor rock, and exploit it to their advantage.

Bruce would make sure that Clark was ready when the time comes. No friend of Batman was going to be taken down because of sloppy footwork.

Clark sat up abruptly, "I should go. Thank you Bruce, for this. And the new vacuum cleaner."

"Hey, you should come with me," Clark halted in his steps, "I'm sure ma would be delighted to have a guest at lunch."

"Sure," Bruce just shrugged.

"Really? Perfect!"

Wait a minute.

Bruce looked up abruptly when he realised what he had agreed to. No, he was not saying 'yes' to the lunch invitation, it was...

He sighed in defeat. Bruce had a million and one things to do, both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman. The Joker was still out there, gunning for them, and-

Before he knew it, Bruce was at the front door of the Kents' farmhouse in Smallville. He had initially refused to let Clark fly him there, but if they were to take the jet, they would be having dinner instead of lunch.

"Bruce! It's been a long time," Mrs Kent greeted him with a hug, "Come on inside, I'm just finishing up with the chicken."

The last time Bruce had visited her, it had been Christmas eve seven months ago. The Kents had invited the whole league over for a meal, including Alfred.

That was probably the best memory Bruce ever had of Christmas. He was used to spending Christmases alone or at a gala with people he didn't care about, after forcing Alfred to go back and visit his family in England.

"Clark, help me get the plates out?" She went back to bustling around the small kitchen.

Bruce didn't have to wait long until he was seated in front of a plate piled high with fried chicken.

"More chicken, Bruce?"

"Uh…," Bruce looked down at his mountain of artery-clogging food.

"Ma."

"So Bruce Wayne," Mrs Kent joined them at the table, "What is that I'm hearing on the news? That you want my boy to leave and get his own dang planet?"

Clark barked a laugh.

"Well, I heard Mars' a pretty nice place this time of year," Bruce jested.

"Yeah well, it wouldn't be a bad idea, if it keeps him safe," She commented under her breath.

Clark just sighed and shook his head.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at that. Seems like all was not well between the mother and son.

The rest of the lunch was spent talking about the Kents' new neighbours who moved into the farmhouse down the road, and how the recent corn harvest was much better than the previous year's. Bruce appreciated the break. It has been a while since he had a conversation about something that didn't involve work. And for the past hour or so, he hadn't thought about WayneEnterprises, Kryptonite, the Joker, or even Gotham. Not even once.

Bruce offered to help Martha clean up the dishes, despite knowing that she wouldn't let him.

"Clark can do it."

He just stood aside and watched the two of them work, sipping on his cup of coffee.

Martha was putting all the leftovers into Tupperware containers, "Remember to put the chicken in the freezer, not the fridge. They'd turn soggy if you store them in the fridge. And don't you go skipping meals because you’re too lazy,” Martha wagged her finger at her son, “You need to eat more, Clark. You’re looking skinny these days.”

“You know I don’t Ma."

Bruce had known them for years, but he still couldn't get used to the sight of Superman being fussed over by Mrs Kent.

He had a faint memory of how it was supposed to feel like, with his own mother. It felt like warmth, and love. Sure, Alfred fussed over Bruce sometimes, but it wasn't the same.

Mrs Kent wasn't done fussing, "Have you been resting enough Clark? You're just everywhere," she sighed, "Even you need sleep too, Clark."

It was hard to reconcile the image of this Clark, with the regal, otherworldly cape-wearing superhero the rest of the world knows him as.

"I'm good, Ma. I promise," Clark dried the last plate off with his heat vision, "I sleep okay. We have to go back. Bruce's probably busy."

Martha sent them off to the small airstrip in her truck, even though Bruce has already hired a driver to pick them up.

"Thank you Mrs Kent. That was an amazing lunch," Bruce hugged her goodbye.

“You should come by more often, and thank you for what you’ve done for Clark,” She patted his back, "Help me to keep an eye on him, will you? He never know went to stop."

Bruce promised that he would.

Bruce took advantage of the flight time to get some work done, when Clark said softly, “I didn’t tell her that I was in the room when it exploded, that night of the fire. Now she thinks I’m keeping everything from her.”

Bruce didn't look up from his computer, “But you are, aren’t you? Have you told her about the Kryptonite going missing? About the Kryptonite-wielding hooligans, or the greeting card you just received?”

“What good will it do to tell her? She’d only worry."

“So…finding out that you almost died from the eight o’clock news is better?” Bruce pointed out. After the footage has surfaced in mainstream media, it was played on a loop for at least three days before the world moved on to other news.

Bruce finally looked up at the silence, and Clark was frowning so hard, Bruce thought that he was going to burn a hole through the leather seat in front of him. Literally.

"Look," Bruce said, because he didn't want a hole burnt into his jet. The premium leather would be hard to replace, "Give her some credit. She's stronger than you think, she can handle it. Besides, I'm pretty sure she's never going to stop worrying, no matter what. I'm no expert but I hear that's what mothers do."

The next time Bruce glanced up at Clark, his face was no longer scrunched up. Instead, he was peering curiously at Bruce's screen. Bruce was in the midst of fine-tuning and updating his face-recognition program which would alert him if the Joker was captured on any of the surveillance cameras in Gotham.

"You think he hasn't left Gotham?" Clark asked.

Bruce nodded. He was pretty sure of that, even though his nemesis had broke out of Arkham nearly six months ago. More than enough time for anyone to disappear to any part of the globe. Gotham was the Joker's home. The Joker may send his minions out to do his dirty work for him outside of Gotham, but he would never leave.

Clark asked, "What are you going to do when you find him?"

Bruce just shrugged.

"And what are we going to do with that guy-"

"I'll deal with it tonight," Bruce replied.

Bruce was not eager for Batman to return to Metropolis again. It was impossible to blend into the night when the city was always brightly lit.

He saw Clark's mouth open, and then close without a word.

"You can come along if you like," Bruce offered.

"Yes. Yes! I don't have any plans for the evening."

Bruce huffed, "I'm going in at midnight."

"No plans for the midnight either."

* * *

The city was enveloped in a dense fog rolling in from the sea tonight, the perfect cover for Batman to be prowling about.Bruce landed and rolled on the roof. He retracted his grappling hook and tucked it inside his utility belt. Clark touched down silently beside him.

"See anything?" Bruce asked. He cut off the power for the light fixtures in the common areas before climbing down the roof access ladder into the building. 

Clark's brows furrowed, "He's alone, in bed. I don't see any Kryptonite."

Bruce didn't think that they were heading for a trap, but they could never be certain. Especially when it comes to the Joker.

"Doesn't mean there isn't any. Could be hidden behind lead," Bruce led the both of them down to the seventh floor.

"Stay back, until I say so," Bruce unlocked the door without a sound, and stepped into the darkened apartment.

Until now, Clark has been good on his word, that he would let Bruce take the lead.

After he had the man restrained right there in his own bed and did a quick sweep of the place for any hidden booby traps, Bruce called out for Clark, "Superman."

He sat himself down on a small couch facing the bed. This was the first time he had brought Clark along on an interrogation, Superman was usually only called upon when Bruce needed his superpowers. He already knew how Clark Kent worked as a journalist, and so he wanted to watch how Superman worked. 

Clark walked into the room, his eyes on Bruce, questioning.

Bruce gestured to the man with a tilt of his head.

Clark turned to the man, and narrowed his eyes on the man laying lazily in the bed, "How did you know who I was?"

The guy snorted, "You didn't make it very hard for us to connect the dots, Mr Kent. All we needed was confirmation, and a little DNA sufficed."

"Who's 'we'?" Clark asked.

"Couple of friends," The man shrugged nonchalantly as much as the wires around him allowed.

"Is the Joker one of your friends?" Clark raised his eyebrows, "Did you two meet in Arkham?"

Another shrug.

"What does he want with me?"

Bruce sighed inwardly. Clark was interviewing the guy like the journalist that he was, instead of interrogating him. It was painfully slow-going.

"You're just…hmm," The man smiled, "A means to an end."

Bruce pushed himself off the chair and grabbed the man by the throat, "Where is he?"

"117 Flint Street."

That was way too easy, Bruce hadn't even started applying pressure, literally. It must be some kind of a trap. And the address…it sounded familiar to Bruce's ears. He glanced sideways, saw Clark frowning at him, and suddenly remembered.

Bruce led Clark outside the bedroom by his elbow, and closed the door.

"What do you think?" Clark asked, "That's in Gotham, right?"

"It is. Do you not recognise the address?"

Clark shook his head.

"It was where I fought you with Kryptonite."


End file.
